


Residue

by MithrilWren



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Burns, Flashbacks, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 09:12:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17619611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MithrilWren/pseuds/MithrilWren
Summary: Caleb watches the two people he loves most in the world go up in flames.[Spoilers for Episode 50]





	Residue

**Author's Note:**

> I literally finished the episode, opened up a Word doc, and started writing this. It's the only way I can deal with the leftover stress. This show is going to be the death of me.

_There are many things you remember from that night. Some are real, some aren’t. You heard the screams of your parents, but maybe it was the horses bellowing in the farmhouse. You saw their silhouettes in the window, or was it the old grandfather clock crumbling to the floor?_

_But most of all, you remember the smell of burning hair. It can’t be real – straw and oak and linen should have masked it – but you still taste it on your tongue when the dreams come. Smoke, and burning hair._

You are framed in the mouth of a tunnel, watching this happen in slow motion. Your hand is outstretched, palm still smarting from the last feeble spell and you’ve known Nott long enough to recognize the sound of her footfalls as she rushes from beneath the ruins of the bridge, the whining bursts of breath as she leaps once-

twice-

You get a precious second to watch as her face materializes in midair: hood flung back, green skin shining and her terrified eyes wreathed in long tresses of tangled black hair. That’s more than you got the last time. A single moment to fix in your mind. Then she’s gone, falling backwards out of sight, and all that’s left in her place is flames, flames, flames-

Your hands, moving. Motions that you know, don’t have to think, a careless spell and you can’t reach her but your heart is already outside your body. Your hands are moving, but your feet stay planted between escape and Nott and you can’t-

All you see of Beau is her cloak as she whips past, a streak of cobalt light and her feet never hesitate as she kneels down and reaches her hands into the fire. The wrappings around her wrists crumble into charcoal flakes and those hands that have covered yours begin to bubble and burst and then disappear altogether. They are both disappearing, and you cannot move. The next spell fizzles on your fingertips, and you are watching the only two people you love in the world burn.

And you… you are letting this happen.

The spark of magic whistles past your ear and wheels its way into where Beau’s arms once were, where there’s now only flame, and she’s pulling something from the river but it’s still burning and she runs past you and all you see is blue against red and orange and yellow. No green in sight.

Caduceus is calling your name, and you’re alone out here. _Astrid and Eodwulf are already walking back towards the cart and_ you are standing here alone, letting the world close in around you. Something approaches and you turn and run before the blackness covers your vision completely. A crash of stone behind your back and you’re in darkness and you’re running, and running, and running, and you can smell it. The acrid scent of burnt hair is all around you. You stumble, and there’s an arm across your back, moving you forwards, and you run, until you’re not running anymore.

 _Caleb, lights_.

There’s this voice. You don’t know who’s talking, or who they’re talking to.

 _Caleb, I think we’re safe now_.

The voice is accented, familiar. You’re sure you’ve never heard it before.

_Caleb!_

A new voice, that rasps with barely-concealed pain. A voice you know. _The woman on the table, with smoke in her lungs and a handprint seared across her throat, and when she stopped screaming all she did was whimper and plead before Trent, before you-_

“Caleb!”

You open your eyes and find bright gleaming ones staring back.

You blink as Nott, _Nott_ , comes into focus. it takes you a moment to realize the dark halo around her head isn’t the encroaching cave walls. It’s the remains of her dark hair, split and curled into tattered rings around her ears. There are shining welts across her cheeks and neck and her clothes are singed through and there’s barely anything left of her hair. And she’s alive.

Somehow, she’s alive.

“Oh,” you say with what little breath remains in your body, “oh, look what’s happened to you.”

The tips of the curls shatter under your hesitant touch, but she is real beneath your hands, and you press what is left of her once-straight locks back against her forehead so you can see more that isn’t charred by flame.

“I’m alright,” she says, and smiles in that small way that she only smiles for you, and you bury your face into her shoulder and you can still smell it but she’s alright, and so you’re alright.

You’re alright.

You’re alright.

 

 


End file.
